


Bruised Bloody Broken ~ Pilot

by BruisedBloodyBroken



Series: Bruised Bloody Broken - AU [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Falling In Love, Hooker Sam, Hunter Dean, Hurt/Comfort, Kind of hunter Sam, M/M, Other, PTSD, Robert Singer - Freeform, Sam always is always the bottom in my stories, Top Dean Winchester, mentions of torture, unrelated winchest (for now)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:08:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29224464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BruisedBloodyBroken/pseuds/BruisedBloodyBroken
Summary: DISCLAIMER:unrelated!wincest(at first), related!wincest(later on), sam/dean, may graphic!content, hunter!dean, hurt!sam, hurt!sam!very!much, caring!dean, slow!built!relationship, rated!M!for!a!reason, PTDS, torture, hooker!sam
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Bruised Bloody Broken - AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2145744
Comments: 20
Kudos: 27





	1. INTRO

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Fandom](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Fandom).



_ **INTRO** _

_It's been quite some time since I've been writing something._

_Actually writing at all … and that's that._

_I've a tough time at the moment. I'm actually recovering. Other than that I'm withdrawing from a med I've been taking since 2 years._

_Let's say, withdrawal is hard._

_So I started writing. Again. With a new story. I have no idea where this journey is going to to take my mind. For now I'm up to Chapter 8. I'm going to finish the baseline, most likely followed by one-shots and sequels._

_I don't like unfinished business, just like Dean Winchester._

_**About that:  
This is an AU, unrelated Wincest. ** _

_Sam's a hooker – at least for starters. I'm going to take him to hell and back and for the sake of it. It won't get pretty. At least not as far as I can tell. So yeah, I'm planning on putting him into a lot of misery in this story. Not just physically._

_You're going to read about those boxes. I've plans with them, though I don't want to spoiler you any further._

_. Dean's a hunter. Or … so to say … a retired one actually. He won't get away very pretty too – at least when it works out as planned. PTSD so to say. - Which I suppose is going to be of matter later on too, when it comes to the sequels and/or one-shots_

_I'm also thinking about getting Azazel into the game with Sam having visions. I'm not sure about that one yet._

_You're gonna meet Bobby and Ellen._

_**RATING** : So I'm gonna rate this with a „ **MA** “. _

_I also don't have a clue how graphic this is going to become. How long this story is going to last, though I've a plan._  
  
I've to apologize for not updating „FIELDS OF JASMINE“ for so long. I'll catch up some time – maybe. If I can …

_I also apologize if I missed any mistakes. My correction-tool doesn't work like it should, and I can't find the bug._

_But for now, I'm rolling with this one, and I hope you like it (mostly because my English isn't that good anymore, and I just can't remember all the phrases and stuff. So I apologize for that.)._

_**DISCLAIMER** : _

_**unrelated!wincest(at first), related!wincest(later on), sam/dean, may graphic!content, hunter!dean, hurt!sam, hurt!sam!very!much, caring!dean, slow!built!relationship, rated!M!for!a!reason, PTDS, torture, hooker!sam** _

_You guys ready?_

_So, here we go … Let's get this started!_

_**And for fucks sake: Leave me some kuddos on this one. After all, I'm trying.** _


	2. CHAPTER 1

_ **Bruised Bloody Broken** _

_ **Pilot** _

_ **CHAPTER 1** _

_It's been a while …_

Dean Winchester was a mess. And by far, he couldn't imagine crossing roads with someone who could be even more damaged than him.

He's been out of his family-business for a couple of years by now. Still he had nightmares. Still he hadn't found what he's been looking for – somehow at least. He didn't even know what he's been looking for. What it was that was missing.

That thing with the PTSD. Not telling, that Dean Winchester ever had an issue with mental health anyway. Though, at some point he needed to admit to himself, that there were a few things triggering him.

Hell, he was a Winchester. Winchesters didn't have that kind of problems anyway. At least that's what his father had told him a long time ago.

Dean Winchester had seen his fair share of supernatural creatures

After closing the gates of hell. He deserved to end it all. To live a happy life without monsters, demons, and what else was roaming this world.

Maybe he would find a woman. Get some kids. Get peace. Relax. Do BBQ and that whole family- and friends-stuff Work at bobby's junk yard...

Or don't find a woman. After all he knew, he wouldn't deny a long-lasting shutdown with a guy either. Maybe adopt a bunch full of kids then?

Nope. These things he couldn't do. not right now. Maybe never …

Not as long as he felt like loosing his mind over little things. And certainly not, as long, as he wasn't sure what he's been looking for. Searching for. Or what the hell he actually thought he was missing.

He needed to sort things out before settling down.

Though he wasn't sure if he was made for rising a kid. His father haven't been that good about it. On the other hand, John had been a hunter. He raised Dean as a hunter. Taught him to protect himself. Protect himself from all that nasty bitches out there. Him , well, and others.

His father didn't teach him how to do normal stuff. Hell, Dean's never mowed a lawn. Didn't have to keep a house clean, or do dishes on a regular basis. More than that, he had no clue how to stay with one partner more than a night.

Always on the run. Never looking back.

Besides. His father told him more than just once, that it was no good to fall in love with someone outside the business, nor inside the business. Partners were a weak spot.

All that nasty creatures would take that as their chance to hurt you if they'd find out. John was right with this back then. There wasn't just one occasion on which some Thing tried to get between the both of them. Using it to get the drop on one of them.

He deserved to fucking chill out the hell of himself. He was done. Like literally done.

So now, here he was. In his Baby again. The only real home he ever knew. The only steadiness in his life so far. A place where he felt safe at any time ever since.

Some time he'd stop by at Bobby's. Sleep there, and hit the road again. Without any special destination. He could stay at Bobby's. The old man offered it to him a million times.

But Dean couldn't. He felt as if he was on the run ever since he stopped hunting – except for an occasional job here and there. Deep down he knew that he was running from his past. Though, admitting it to himself was another thing.

_SPN_

It's been freaking cold in the middle of December in Sioux Falls.

Sam wasn't even sure what had brought him up here. Usually he was wandering around. Hitch-hiking, crashing in crappy motels, if his finances allow it to him.

At the moment they didn't, so he ended up here in front of a bar, along with some girls waiting for clients to pick them up.

So did Sam. He'd hopefully get some who'd take him to motel-rooms or wanted to spend some time in the car with him.

First thing off, he needed to buy himself a warm parka. Or else he'd catch himself a cold out here. All he was owning he wore.

Old worn-out cowboy-boots, grey washed-out jeans and a flannel-shirt. That's how he took off from Houston,Texas two weeks ago.

Sam didn't think about his past. He had wrapped it up in a dark box deep down in his mind, and he wouldn't go opening it up now. All the dark places he has been – and he certainly wouldn't go back there again.

As it seemed, this area of Sioux Falls wasn't the proper place for male hookers. There haven't been a lot of Johns interested in men as it seemed. At least not when it was about hookers. There have only been three clients so far that night. And some blowjob didn't cover his costs, nor did it found him a parka.

Besides he needed to keep himself clean. No one was interested in some dirty stinky whore from the streets. Except for dirty stinky truck-drivers who didn't care who'd get them off.

If things wouldn't get better, he'd have to keep on going. He needed money. He needed food.

But he was tired. So damn tired and worn out. Sam needed rest for a couple of weeks. Somewhere he could crash and buckle up. Somewhere he could heal.

He couldn't keep going like this, or he'd end up at the side of the street like some roadkill...

Either he'd freeze, or he'd starve. Most likely the first. His fingers felt stiff, his muscles hurt and he had the feeling, that his ears would fall off anytime soon, if there wouldn't be someone picking him and taking him to a warm motel-room to fuck him.

_SPN_

So, here he was.

Pulling up at 5am at the sidewalk to the Nancy 'n Fred, didn't happen that often. At least not, that a Winchester would admit it anyway.

Usually he'd go in, find a nice girl at the bar and not a great amount of time later, he'd end up with her in his motel-room.

Tonight though – he didn't want to go in. Didn't want to listen to a bunch of drunk idiots and he certainly didn't have the need to find himself someone at the bar.

What he wanted was a fuck without effort. Nothing he had weasel himself out again in the morning.

Tonight he wanted something easy. So actually a prostitute. Oh, and these girls here were one of their kind. Everyone of them having character. There were girls for any kind of tendency and each and everyone of them was sweet as honey.

Tonight though, there was something different. It was lingering in the air. Drawing the Winchester to this place. Not making him wanting to go inside. Making him survey the hookers up and down, not quite sure what he was looking for tonight.

Until his eyes fell on a pair of warn out cowboy-boots. Grey washed out jeans, a flannel. Long shaggy hair, eyes glued to the ground, not trying to catch the look of passing drivers. Though the guy – Dean was pretty sure it was a guy – leaned against the wall. Amid the girls. And damn, this man was tall. Fucking tall. And he looked fucking skinny. Or the clothes he was wearing were way too big.

Usually Dean didn't give a damn about men. Not when it came to hookers. And certainly neither at bars.

Sp far it's been thoughts about seeing himself with a guy. A guy with kids. Maybe at Bobby's. He sure as hell was sure that it wouldn't be a problem for the old man if he would be crossing the shores. And though … something stung a little at the thought of telling Bobby that he had a boyfriend...

Something about the very unusual sight of the man, leaning there, in just the way he did, stilled something oddly throbbing inside of him. Something that made him feel a bit calm deep inside his soul.

Something he couldn't put his finger on. But it still was there. Deep down, buried.

Besides it was fucking cold. Didn't he own a proper jacket? Tonight wasn't the night to stay outside like this for too long.

Dean's forehead wrinkled , thoughtful lines built on his face, thinking for a moment before he wound down the window on the passenger's side.

He lightened up his face a bit, not to look all that troubled or even crazy. Or what had else been called so far.

Dean leaned over, lurking through the window. Trying to get a closer look at the guy over there. There was a streetlamp, but it wouldn't give enough light to get a proper picture.

!Hey Tiger!“, he called out, offering his most precious charming smile.

Dean could make out a glimpse of bright hazel eyes catching a glimpse of light. The man brushed his mop of hair back. Rays of light met pale looking skin and tender lips.

Well defined lines of a face showed. The man was young. Younger than Dean by the looks of it. The muscles in the younger man's jaw tensed for a moment before he straightened up and went over to the black Impala. He leaned down, never dismissing Dean's eyes.

Sam leaned forward, immediately checking the backseat with a fast look around. At least the car was cleaned up. So no leftovers and papers he had to roll over later on.

„ _Blowjob_ Ten or fifteen, Depending on how long you last. Payed per hour. _Top_ in the car twenty. _Bottom_ in the car forty. In a Motel it's twenty no matter what you choose..“, the man rattled down. His warm breath evaporating in cold air. „ _Cuddling's_ extra.“ The man took a deep breath and added with a stable voice. „You're into _choking_ or _bondage_ I'm charging double, including eventual medical expenses.“

_The Road So Far:_ Sam leaned forward, immediately checking the backseat with a fast look around. At least the car was cleaned up. So no leftovers and papers he had to worry about.

„Blowjob Ten or fifteen, Depending on how long you last. Payed per hour. Top in the car twenty. Bottom in the car forty. In a Motel it's twenty no matter what you choose..“, the man rattled down. His warm breath evaporating in cold air. „Cuddling's extra.“ The man took a deep breath and added with a stable voice. „You're into choking or bondage I'm charging double, including eventual medical expenses.“


	3. CHAPTER 2

_The Road So Far:_ Sam leaned forward, immediately checking the backseat with a fast look around. At least the car was cleaned up. So no leftovers and papers he had to worry about.

„Blowjob Ten or fifteen, Depending on how long you last. Payed per hour. Top in the car twenty. Bottom in the car forty. In a Motel it's twenty no matter what you choose..“, the man rattled down. His warm breath evaporating in cold air. „Cuddling's extra.“ The man took a deep breath and added with a stable voice. „You're into choking or bondage I'm charging double, including eventual medical expenses.“

**CHAPTER 2**

Dean nodded at him. „Get in.“, his voice raspy and deep. Humming in Sam's ears. „Don't worry, won't be the _hard_ stuff.“

Sam didn't hesitate. He opened the door, slid into the passenger's seat and slammed it shut.

They didn't talk on their way back to Dean's motel-room. Neither did the man try to get a better look at Dean's face nor his body. Like he didn't care who he was with, nor where he would be taking him.

Dean on the other hand was curious.

So far most of the girls – and those two times he picked up a guy – were trying to get him to talk the whole ride. Asking what he had in mind, where they were going. All nosy and chatty.

None of them ever had told him, that he'd have to pay for _medical expenses_ either. Was this even a thing? Getting off on hurting someone that bad, that he'd need medical attention after sex?

On the other hand, Dean was pretty much old-school. He wasn't all cuddling and stuff. But he sure as hell wasn't into hurting someone. Ever.

This guy didn't seem to care at all. Dean could have probably taken him into the woods. Or anywhere else no one would ever find his body. _Ever._ It was pretty dangerous working like this.

_Didn't the kid have Family?_

All of a sudden this whole thing seemed wrong in so many ways. He kind of felt like a molester. Somehow dirty and itchy to the bones … What was motivating that guy to sell himself? Was he that desperate to earn money, so he wouldn't care that he could be killed by some random _stranger_ out there?

For a moment, Dean thought about kicking the man – well or kid, he wasn't quite sure yet – out. Giving him twenty and saying sorry, he had changed his mind about fucking him.

 _But then again_ … that's what the man was doing. Selling himself to others. So wasn't anything wrong with doing this. Taking him to the motel, having sex with him, paying him for it, wasn't it?

All those lingering thoughts, until finally, they reached the motel. Dean parked right in front of his rented room, just like daddy had taught him to. Just like the hunter in him told him to.

Some things would never change.

The man followed Dean without a word, leading him into his room. All though Sam walked behind the more or less retired hunter, Dean had his senses on alert. Hearing his every step. Noting his every breath.

Dean let the man in, turning the lights on.

It was all warm and cosy inside.

Before the hunter's eyes got used to the bright lights, Sam was stripping down his flannel and a moment later he was right in front of Dean, tugging back his dark-brown leatherjacket.

_Wowowow_. Easy there, kiddo.“, Dean breathed, taken aback.

The man seemed to be all business now. Like he had snapped an internal switch to dirty and lascivious.

Sam drew back a step.

„So … what's it gonna be?“, Sam asked. His mind set on the task before him. Darkening hazel-eyes surveying the hunter. He tilted his head to the side, waiting.

Dean took in the man's appearance. Checking him out in a split second.

There was an old scar on the kid's left chest. By the looks of it from a knife or something like that. An already fainting bruise on his neck.

„What about we start with your name?“, he asked, his voice low and even.

„You can call me all you want.“ **Yeah** , totally all business, nothing left of the shy, unconspicuous guy. Husky and _fucking_ appealing words rolling over those tender lips.

„We'll. I'm _Dean_. Guess we'll go with your actual name.“, Dean stated. „For the rest. _I'm on top._ No switching. I'm gonna pay you for two hours, not any longer.“

„Sam.“, the young man blinked, and ran his bony fingers through his hair. He gave the hunter a nod sealing their deal. „Anything else I need to know? Something you _want_ me to do? … or not to do?“

Dean thought for a second. His eyes narrowed. He wasn't quite sure what Sam wanted to hear. And actually, he didn't have that much experiences with male hookers so far.

„Nope. Guess we'll see.“, the hunter answered.

_SOON: _

_Sam knows his job can be dangerous. So he's cautious, but maybe he's not cautious enough, since he depends on the money for a living …_


	4. CHAPTER 3

_The Road So Far_ : „We'll. I'm Dean. Guess we'll go with your actual name.“, Dean stated. „For the rest. I'm on top. I'm gonna pay you for two hours.“

„Sam.“, the young man blinked, and ran his bony fingers through his hair. He gave the hunter a nod sealing their deal. „Anything else I need to know? Something you _want_ me to do? … or not to do?“

Dean thought for a second. His eyes narrowed. He wasn't quite sure what Sam wanted to hear. And actually, he didn't have that much experiences with male hookers so far.

„Nope. Guess we'll see.“, the hunter answered.

_ **CHAPTER 3** _

_They had sex._ They had fucking _awesome_ sex.

Sam pushed all the right buttons at the right time, to get Dean all hot and bothered, receiving what he had been paying for. He was a damn master of orgasm.

This had been the best sexual intercourse he'd ever had in his damn fucking life.

The whole mission had left Dean in a post-orgasmic dreamy haze. He barely noticed the hooker tugging up the sheets, leaving him all cosy and warm.

Sam got dressed in no-time. It's been two hours straight, and now it was time for him to leave. It was a long way back into town, and if he was lucky, another client would pick him up before the dawn of day.

He crapped the cash from the table by the window, not counting it. Dean didn't seem like someone who would pull him over the barrel.

He wouldn't call the guy on it anyway. He didn't have the needed, strength and motivation for a fight. Not now. Maybe not ever again.

Sam was tired and fucking done. He needed some sleep and food. He needed to get rest.

„Give you a lift.“, Dean's voice was all raw and husky. _Still damn sexy._

The young man froze on his way to the door. „Nah. I'll walk.“ He reminded himself to keep his professionality, though he would have preferred a ride instead of walking.

Sam had his politicizes. No kissing. Not getting into the car of a client after they were done.

„It's freakin' cold out there. You don't have a jacket. - Give me ten minutes and we'll take off. I'll get you back into town.“

Sam didn't look back. Not at first. Though. He knew that not all clients cared, so he felt the urge to offer the man some reassurance, that he would return save.

„I'm fine. - It'll get warm when I walk anyways.“ Though he was done, he managed to put up a small smile before he looked back over his shoulder.

Dean already had a leg out of the bed. Struggling a bit to get back from the haze and radiance the guy had left him in.

„You seem like a nice guy.“ Something hopeful swung in Sam's voice. _There was still hope._ „Keep that. The world's a bad place for people like me. It's nice to meet someone who eventually cares just a bit.“ And with that, Sam was out of the door and gone.

Dean thought about that for a moment. He haven't heard that often. „A nice guy“. He wasn't a nice guy at all. Well, the kid didn't know what he had done. Who he had killed. And how many deaths he was responsible for. Sam had no clue of what Dean Winchester was capable of.

_SPN_

The Winchester felt somehow _restless_ since his pretty awesome encounter with Sam. He was thinking about the guy way too often for his own liking. He was a hooker. There was nothing about this that justified his thoughts lingering.

So he shoved those irritating senses aside.

Whatever it was, that let him think about Sam, had no right to be on his mind at all. The tingling sensation deep down in his guts didn't mean any good. Well, by _not meaning any good_ it wasn't meant to be something bad either …

It felt more like that kind of feelings, which weren't supposed to evolve any further. At least not for a Winchester.

_SPN_

It didn't take more than 72 hours for Dean, to drive by the Nancy 'n Fred's, slowing down while passing the bar at 10pm, checking what was on the plate tonight.

There was _no Sam_.

The slight feel of disappointment spread all over his chest and left him with something like a small deep hole which reached deep . He wasn't quite sure what he was doing here. What he thought he'd get, when he'd pick the guy up for another round of awesome sexual intercourse.

That night, Dean didn't pick anyone up.

He went to the local 24/7 store, running errands close before midnight. He then went to get a burger down at Emmy's Burgers & BBQ.

Although he wasn't hungry at all.

Maybe he was only stalling, before he'd head back to the motel. _Without Sam_.

He was stalling a little longer. Left half of the burger on the plate and then got back behind the steering wheel, taking an indirect way back to the motel, guiding him past the Nancy 'n Fred's for the third time this night.

_Still no Sam …_

Maybe he had _missed_ him …

Maybe he wasn't around anymore …

Maybe he had **frozen to death** somewhere?

The thought, that the guy could be _just gone_ … Well that feeling cut sharp into his chest.

He couldn't leave it. He couldn't stand the thought, that he wouldn't see this Sam-Guy ever again.

Dean literally felt like a lovesick stalker. _Some creep._

So he went to drive by the Nancy 'n Fred's again. _And again._ Five days in a row. Watching and surveying the surroundings. Might as well even talking to Candy and Michone. Two girls, who where running their business in front of the bar. They wouldn't miss a night. They knew all the girls – and maybe Sam too.

Actually they didn't. They only knew, that the man was a new one. He turned up two weeks ago, lingering around there every night, waiting for some random client to pick him up. None of the girls had a pimp, so Sam wouldn't either …

All they could tell was, that he had gotten into a car with two passengers. They drove an old Pickup-truck

No type of car, no license-plate-number known.

No hints at all except for being a Pickup-truck

And that was that. Theories over theories what could have happened. Questions, that couldn't have been answered anyway soon.

It'd take resources and time. And since Dean was known by quite some folks in Sioux Falls, he couldn't pull his FBI-Badge with a random alias at anyone here.

It was _crazy_. Dean felt like _going_ _crazy_. This whole Sam-thing was making him restless. Maybe it was because he figured, that no one else would care about where the man was, or what he had gotten himself into.

It was nagging on his very soul.

And the longer it lasted, the more agitated Dean became.

_SPN_

It's been a fucking week now. Sam hadn't thought it would take that long to get back on his feet. He needed to think over his politicizes, or charge more for services like that.

He had to get out tonight. No matter what. There was only that much money left for one more night at the motel.

_So he had to._

No matter how he felt. How he was doing.

He just hoped, the next one wouldn't go as hard on him as those men did. Respectively the same guys would book him again for one of their next sessions either.

TBC


	5. CHAPTER 4

The Road So Far:   
It's been a fucking week now. Sam hadn't thought it would take that long to get back on his feet. He needed to think over his politicizes, or charge more for services like that.   
He had to get out tonight. No matter what. There was only that much money left for one more night at the motel.   
So he had to.   
No matter how he felt. How he was doing.   
He just hoped, the next one wouldn't go as hard on him as those men did. Respectively the same guys would book him again for one of their next sessions either. 

CHAPTER 4

It happened to be one of those nights.   
Dean was still surveying Nancy 'n Fred's, when he noticed a tall figure appear from behind a corner.   
He jumped upright in his seat, followed by a dulled thud when hitting the car roof with his head. Tugging his curly fries back into the paper-bag in a hurry, and decreasing his fingers with a paper-towel.  
Cowboy-boots.   
Grey faded jeans.   
A parka like a lumberjack would wear it.   
And a mop of shaggy long hair falling in small strains into the guys face.   
Something was off in the was he was walking.   
Sam was favorising his left side. Though, for a normal person it wouldn't stand out at all. For a hunter it was obvious. 

„Sam.“, Dean mumbled. He recalled. It's been over a week now.   
It didn't matter.   
This was his call.   
The hunter wouldn't think about it twice. He turned the ignition key and his baby roared to life. Lights flickered on.   
Dean didn't hesitate to turn his car at the next occasion and pull up beside the sidewalk. The window was wound down in no-time.   
„Tiger!“, he called out with a wide cocky grin.   
Dean Winchester was fucking excited. Relieved. Glad that the kid was still alive. There were so many damn feelings bubbling up, he couldn't possibly come up with a name to put on them just yet. 

Hazel-green eyes met his.   
Sam seemed not that enthusiastic. But he didn't look like it the last time either. - At least not until they had entered the motel-room.   
He offered a small smile.   
Dean wasn't sure what he was reading out of this. Something was off about the man was looking at him. Like he was relieved, and though troubled.   
Sam came over, leaned in. „Same as last time?“, there was hesitation in his voice. Hope.

Dean nodded at him. „Same as last time.“, he confirmed. Still trying to figure out what it was exactly that made him feel off about Sam's behavior.   
Maybe it was because of Sam's slower movements. Maybe the misty look, wide pupils. All signs of being injured and barely keeping it together. - For the jobs sake. 

Dean had been through this kind of trouble all that often. So he would know.

Sam got in.   
They didn't talk on their way to the motel.   
Dean wanted to ask him some things that burned holes into his stomach. About where he had been. What he had been doing. Why he was so … off. But he bit his tongue. He knew this weren't things he had a right to ask for.   
… at least not just yet.  
After all, this was business to Sam. Even though it didn't feel like business for Dean in any way. 

Like the last time they went into Dean's room. Sam stripped out of his brand new parker and threw in on the table. He had swallowed a good load of painkillers before he went to work. And he had a pack of the real good stuff in the inside pocket of the parka. Just in case.   
He supposed he would need at least one of them tonight. 

„What's it gonna be tonight?“, Sam's voice was hoarse.

Dean nudged the door closed and turned around. He was still checking on Sam. Trying to figure out what exactly was wrong with him.   
His hunter-senses didn't let him down so far. He could practically smell it, when something was off about something or someone. And right now, all his senses were on high alert and screaming at him. 

„Same as last time.“, Dean answered and stripped off his jacket. 

„Mind if I use your bathroom for a few minutes? Getting myself ready? “ Sam knew he didn't look like the professional he was supposed to be tonight. If he could call himself a professional anyway.   
He knew the man over there – Dean – was sensing something. He was checking on him with this suspicious look in his eyes.   
Sam – at least – felt like he had to contain what little bit of professionality he had left for the day. He wouldn't tell a client about other clients, or what he's been up to. Didn't fit into his policy.

Sam's lips were smiling softly. But his eyes didn't.   
Sam knew that. And Sam knew that Dean knew that Sam knew. 

It may seemed weird. But there were people out there having bonds with other people. Bonds that couldn't be seen, nor explained if you haven't been in something like that before.   
And Sam knew – as strange as it may sounded – that he had something like that with this Dean-guy. There was something between them. Something untouchable. Something other people weren't aware of. Something that belonged to the both of them, and only the both of them. 

„Yeah, sure.“, Dean nodded towards a door on the other side of the small room. „Take your time.“

Sam didn't have time. The guy would hopefully not kick him out, as soon as he'd see him without clothes. And if he did, he needed to get back to the bar as soon as possible. Or he wouldn't have a warm place he could crash by tomorrow morning.   
Besides, the clock was ticking, and preparing himself for whatever he has been bought for wasn't included in his wage. 

Dean watched Sam leaving the room. He sighed. And thought. And sighed.   
He felt weirdly calm, now that he KNEW where the boy was, and that he was with him. At least for the upcoming hour or two.   
Tonight he wouldn't let him walk back into town on his own. He'd give him a ride. It wasn't save out there. It never was. And it never would be. Not just because of creatures, but also because of human monsters roaming the world.   
The hunter sat down on the edge of the bed, listening to what was going on in the bathroom. He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a dark grey undershirt.   
No water splashing, no movement. It seemed to be perfectly calm.  
Dean took money from his purse before putting it into the nightstand. Sixty dollars. More than the actual price was. Maybe it was stupid. But it seemed as if the man did need it desperately. 

SPN

Sam sucked in a deep breath. Time to get out there and do his job. He took another breath, bracing himself for what he got paid for.   
Another deep breath, brushing off the past days and storing them into another box deep down in his mind. 

SPN

When Sam emerged from the bathroom he made the appearance of a good mooded young man, beeing about to have fun.  
Well yeah, Dean didn't buy that. Not for one second.   
And the more Sam looked like everything was just lollipop and candy-canes, the sickened the feeling in Dean's gut became.   
Emerald-green eyes wandered over the hooker from top to toe and back up.   
„You okay?“, he asked rather hesitating.   
Sam gave him a nod, pulling off his boots, then starting to unbutton his shirt. - The same shirt he wore when Dean first took him.   
Dean watched him closely, leaning back a bit, as if enjoying the show. - Well, it wasn't exactly a show, but if someone watched someone who got undressed and had some kind of feeling for this someone, that one person would definitely understand what Dean Winchester was having on his mind right now. 

Sam was only half way down with the buttons, when angry purplish skin caught Dean's attention. There were marks on the younger man's wrists. The sleeve of his right arm had slid up a bit while working his way down. 

His look wandered over to Sam's left hand and arm. If he wasn't wrong, there would be similar marks, telling him, that the kid had been restrained for more than just an hour or two. 

Sam's cheeks flushed. He was used to presenting himself to a client in a similar condition, but this was different. Because Dean was different.   
He feared, that this guy would actually care. That he probably wouldn't lay a hand on him tonight. At least he'd charge twenty bucks from him, if he wasn't in the mood anymore.

Dean was still watching, still observing like a hunter did before he'd get a drop on his prey. Somewhere on the way, watching Sam unbuttoning, he lost himself in his thoughts and only dove back up, when he realized Sam was standing right in front of him, nudging at he knees to part them for him. 

The hunter gazed at the belly before him. His look traveling up to the man's chest, his shoulders, neck.   
There were fading bruises all over his arms. His ribs. His chest. On his hips and hell, Dean didn't want to see what the man's back must look like.   
Dean laid his hands on the waistband of Sam's jeans. All so gentle. He let it travel aside to his hips, covering them. 

Sam was still smiling this soft smile, the hunter wouldn't buy. 

The bruises on his hips matched Dean's hand nearly perfectly. What meant, that the one who did this to him, may as well was as tall as Dean, and high likely as strong. He sent his palms to roam upwards, feeling soft skin under the tips of his fingers. When they reached the man's chest, he'd let them travel back down over his shoulders and arms, right to where it looked like another hand-print Those were definitely bigger than Dean's hands.   
Not the same hands, which had been holding onto Sam's hips. 

„What happened?“ Dean took in every detail about the bruises. Because he knew. He just knew. And he didn't like it.   
This weren't bruises you get from a fight. This were that kind of bruises you would get when you were held down. When someone demonstrated his strength, keeping you in place.   
He knew. And though he had asked. 

Sam lifted his hand and cradled Dean's short hair. He looked reassuring. It didn't matter.   
„Some like it rough.“, he answered softly – as if he had all the acceptance for things like that. „It's okay when you want it rough, Dean. - I can give you everything you want.“ Sam licked his lips as if he was hungry for whatever Dean wanted to do to him.

Dean's stomach turned upside down at Sam's words paired with the look on the kids face.   
He knew that Sam didn't mean it. He just knew. He could see it, feel it. The desperation in the man's eyes, the hidden begging not to ask for anything of this tonight.   
The hunter knew he shouldn't even lay one hand on that man. Not now. And not tomorrow. 

The hunter's hands traveled back down to the waistband of Sam's jeans. He hesitated.   
This wasn't what the man needed right now. This guy could be his little brother. A cousin.   
He wouldn't want anyone to hurt a dear relative like this. 

„You won't tell me who this did to you, won't you?“, the hunter didn't sound that calm anymore.   
Sam's eyes turned darker, sad. „C'mon and fuck me already, douche-bag.“ 

Dean flipped Sam's jeans open and got on his feet. He wanted to kiss the guy so badly. Feeling the younger man's lips against his. But he knew that was a no-go. And he knew Sam wouldn't let him do that...   
So he did what he thought was the best, since Sam surely wouldn't stay with him, if it wasn't for the job …

TBC


	6. CHAPTER 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy it so far ...

_ The Road So Far:  _

„You won't tell me who this did to you, won't you?“, the hunter didn't sound that calm anymore.

Sam's eyes turned darker, sad. „C'mon and fuck me already, douche-bag“

Dean flipped Sam's jeans open and got on his feet. He wanted to kiss the guy so badly. Feeling the younger man's lips against his. But he knew that was a no-go. And he knew Sam wouldn't let him do that...

So he did what he thought was the best, since Sam surely wouldn't stay with him, if it wasn't for the job …

_ **CHAPTER 5** _

_They had sex._

Dean was gentle, nearly loving. His touches had been ghosts on Sam's sore skin. Almost soothing.

Dean had fallen asleep as soon as they had been done.   
Sam had left no sooner after the hunter had drifted off. Leaving twenty bucks on the table, since it had been close to two hours now.

He didn't take what didn't belong to him.

_SPN_

Dean could've punched himself when he woke up. _Alone_. In the morning.

_Sam was gone. AGAIN._

Twenty dollars left on the table.

_Damn it._

That wasn't how this was supposed to go down.

Dean had wanted to give the boy a ride. He had wanted to … _Fuck_. Dean didn't know what he had wanted to.

Protecting Sam? Maybe keeping him from going back out on the streets, getting laid with some else tonight? _Strangers_

But that was who they were. _Right_? They were _strangers_ to each other. They didn't know each other. And though … Dean felt as if he had some kind of responsibility for Sam.

_SPN_

Dean went to Nancy 'n Fred's that night. Maybe he could talk Sam out of this somehow. He _KNEW_ the younger man couldn't possibly like this job. _This business._ And whatever he thought was forcing him into live this life – no matter where, no matter who – it couldn't possibly be what he wanted.

There sure was something _better_ out there for Sam …

Maybe there was someone making him do this. Maybe there was some pimp.

On the other hand, Sam didn't look like someone could make him do things he didn't want to. Even if it may looked that way.

There was _something_ in that man's eyes, that told Dean, that no matter what, no one would force this him to anything. Otherwise it would get ugly.

SPN

What a surprise. _Or rather not._

Sam wasn't there.

Neither he was the night after.

So Dean kept an eye out. He needed to know that the kid was okay. That his injuries weren't worse than they had looked like.

Sam had been cautious, not to show off his back. But for what Dean had felt, when his fingertips ran down Sam's neck and back, what his hunter-life had taught him to see without actually seeing it, he could tell that it was nothing good.

May it had been injuries from a lash or something similar. Not too deep, but they were there. All over his back. And he knew – _he just KNEW_ – this had to hurt like hell.

Worse than that, he knew how susceptible this kind of wounds were without antibiotics.

_SPN_

It took Sam four days to get back on his feet after that night.

It had been too much. Dean. His way back to Nancy 'n Fred's. Two more clients booking his services that night. And they most certainly haven't been all that nice and cosy with him like Dean used to be so far.

But that's what the job was. _Right_?

It was fast money. And this business provided a current flow of income. Besides … somehow he _deserved_ this life. He _deserved_ what he let others do to him. This was his way of dealing. And no one could take this from him. _Ever._

He didn't deserve a normal life. He didn't deserved to be cared for or loved. He didn't _deserve_ to feel _save_.

_SPN_

Dean was waiting. _Again_.

Sam – if he was still in Sioux Falls – had to pop up on his radar somewhere.

Michone had Dean's number. She was supposed to call him, if she'd have any information about where he was.

Just in case the boy showed up at Nancy 'n Fred's without him being around.

So yeah. Michone called. Telling him Sam was back, though he just got into a car with someone.

Dean pulled up at the sideway when Sam had just gotten out of a dark-grey ford combi.

Sam knew he shouldn't feel that excited about Dean pulling up beside him, calling him „ _Tiger_ “ again.

He lurked inside Deans car. „Ready for another ride?“, Sam asked, his voice tempting.

The hunter didn't feel like smiling. He didn't feel the need to do as if, when his mind was all dark and cold.

„Hop in.“, his words came out a bit harsh and like an order. _Thanks to dad anyways._ Old John was like this every time he had been pissed off.

Sam hesitated. For the first time in a long time he hesitated to get into someone's car. He hadn't have the feeling, that Dean was one of the angry ones.

He went cold all over. A coldness that crawled deep into his bones. A coldness that let him shiver.

It wasn't like he wouldn't have thought about the possibility, that the man had other things in mind like the ones they've done so far.

But he also knew, that it didn't matter. Whatever would happen, it'd be okay. _He'd be okay._

This time, Sam tried to steal glimpses from the hunter. He tried to figure out what this change in mood was about, and what it could possibly mean for him tonight.

He didn't feel like he could take on any hard time anytime soon. So yeah, his internals churned at the thought.

Dean felt Sam's furtive looks on him. He felt that the kid was uneasy as hell.

„It's all good.“ Dean wanted to sound soothing, but that didn't quite work out. He sounded like a fucking _creep_.

Sam bit his tongue before he could ask, if it was true that _all was good_ , because it sure as hell didn't sound the way and it made the knot in his stomach even worse.

He was up and about to hop out of the driving car. Something yelled at him to get his ass out of there and freaking RUN.

„You shouldn't.“, Dean stated. He _felt_ it. He _knew_ it. His eyes glued to the road, not wanting to scare Sam off anymore. „We're not going to have sex tonight.“

Sam swallowed audibly.

„We're going to have something to eat. - And we'll talk.“, his voice sounded a bit lighter.

Well, Sam figured he wouldn't get any money for that. „Talk?“ His mouth was dry.

He didn't feel all that peachy and he didn't have the nerve to talk at the moment. He owed the nice old landlord-lady two night-rents. If he wouldn't pay tomorrow, he would get kicked out.

„I'm gonna pay for it.“, Dean reassured him.

Well, now Sam didn't feel all that scared anymore, instead he felt dirty and cheap. He wasn't sure which possibility he was more comfortable with ...

This was the longest ten-minutes-drive Sam ever had in his life.

At least Dean didn't take him into the _woods_ to _TALK_. They ended up in his motel-room. There were two paper-bags on the table. Two bottles of coke and some ice-tea.

„Sit down.“ Dean sat down at the table, leaving the chair by the _door into freedom_ for Sam. He figured that'd be the right move.

Sam didn't sit down.

„What's this all about?“ The younger man didn't sound as semiconscious as he wanted to.

The hunter sighed and leaned back in his chair. He observed Sam thoroughly. Standing there frozen.

„Food and talk.“

Sam couldn't quite believe it.

He's been in some pretty nasty situations so far, but this one weirded him out.

„And I'll have a look at your back.“ This wasn't a question. _Not at all._ Dean told him with his looks that this was a fact. _He'd have a look at his back._ And the other injuries. The kid wouldn't move away without Dean checking this.

Dean sighed again, got his purse out and put two ten dollar notes on the table right beside the paper-bag that was meant to be for the Sam.

„I told you, I'm gonna pay you. I'm not gonna hurt you.“ Dean didn't want to give away too much. He himself wasn't quite sure what this was supposed to be and where this would lead him. „I'd like to have a look at your back before we're eating something. - You look like you're hurting. And you look hungry.“

Well, the hunter wasn't wrong with _that_.

„Why would you care?“ Sam's voice was a whisper.

Dean got up, stashed his purse back to where he had taken it from and nodded towards the bed. „Because I do. - Someone has to care.“

Sam had to get his nerves back under control. If he'd panic now, this wouldn't do any good. Dean was paying him for this. So maybe this was some kind of weird role-play he gotten himself into. Some kink he needed to mend. Maybe that guy wasn't all that soft and nice after all.

_Most people weren't._

Without a further word, Sam shrugged off his parka and shirt and sat down at the edge of the bed, watching Dean's every move.

He may deserved all the things that happened to him, but he wasn't stupid. There were way worse things that could happen to someone in his situation, than to die.

Dean rubbed over his face, bracing himself what he was going to see. He knew it wouldn't be pretty. He also knew there had to be something wrong, because of the way Sam had moved or didn't move. He had tried not to get in contact with the back of the seat during their ride.

A deep grunt rolled from Dean's throat when he laid eyes on the kid's back.

Just like he thought. It was infected. All tainted in ugly red. Though not as bad as he actually expected it to be.

„You got antibiotics?“ Dean knew the answer, but he had to ask. Maybe he'd get surprised. He continued to take in those injuries.

Most of the bruises were gone. Though there was a new one on his shoulder-blade. It looked pretty fresh.

„No.“

„I'm gonna clean them.“, it was an information. Nothing more, nothing less.

Sam thought about talking back. _IF THIS GETS YOU OFF_ , was what he actually wanted to say, but he bit his tongue.

He heard Dean leave into the bathroom and come back with a bag or something. „How old are you anyway?“

„Thirty.“

„Sure? You look younger than that.“

„Sure“

Dean cleared his throat. Well, that was going well so far. At least Sam was still sitting there and not bolting „They should've gotten sewed up.“ But now it was way too late for this.

Dean cleaned the wounds. Only one of them looked pretty bad. „You shouldn't work like this though. They're not going to heal properly.“

Sam knew that. _And he knew that Dean knew that Sam knew._

Dean had a butt-load of questions, but wouldn't ask them. He probably wouldn't see Sam ever again if he did. He'd leave town and would never come back. So he had to do this the right way. He had to be _patient._

Sam was pretty surprised, when the older man helped him back into his shirt, instead of telling him to get undressed.

Dean waved him towards the desk where he had been sitting before. He put two small medication-cans beside the ten dollar notes.

„It's antibiotics and painkillers.“, he stated. „The painkillers are gonna take you out for hours. They're the good stuff.“

_Who was that guy? Why the hell would he care about some fucking whore he didn't even know the slightest? Why all that fussing around._

Then they ate. Neither of them said a word.

And Sam stayed cautious, stealing looks from the clock across the room.

Dean figured that this was just as much weirdness as Sam could take tonight, without bolting out of this and leaving town.

When they were done eating, Dean checked his clock. It's been close to three hours now, and Sam seemed to get more and more uncomfortable.

„What's the price for talking?“, Dean asked finally. Actually he felt pretty good about this whole thing, even when it was a bit off.

Sam stared at him with big eyes, a bang falling into his face. _He had no fucking idea what the price was._

Dean thought for a moment. He felt more relaxed as when he had picked up Sam. He also _looked_ more relaxed now, since Sam didn't bolt. Respectively _tried_ to bolt.

„Tell you what. - I'm gonna give you sixty bucks.“, he offered with a smile. „That's okay?“

Well, that wasn't as much as Sam could've earned in three hours, but it seemed fair, now that he had upgraded the wage.

With a nod, the younger man took the money and stashed it into his parkas pocket.

„Tomorrow.“ Dean locked his eyes on Sam's. His voice was calm, soft. „Same time. I'm gonna pick you up. - We're gonna have something to eat. And we're gonna talk. Or we won't. Depends on you.“ He took a deep inhale before he continued. „When you're better, we're gonna have sex again instead of eating and talking. Or we're gonna watch TV. - And yessss.“ He paused. „I know cuddling is extra.“

Sam wasn't quite sure if the last sentence was a joke … or rather not. Though he HEARD and SAW, that the man meant what he said. He could deal with that. It was weird, but he figured he could really deal with that. And if things would get ugly, he'd leave town.

Because he knew how fast things could get ugly, and this time he'd leave before things would go south.

TBC


	7. CHAPTER 6

_ The Road So Far:  _

Sam wasn't quite sure if the last sentence was a joke … or rather not. Though he HEARD and SAW, that the man meant what he said. He could deal with that. It was weird, but he figured he could really deal with that. And if things would get ugly, he'd leave town.

Because he knew how fast thing could get ugly, and this time he'd leave before things would become really ugly.

_ **CHAPTER 6** _

Dean was picking him up three days in a row.

They didn't talk that much.

Dean did the talking anyway, while checking on Sam's wound, patching him up, getting him to know Dean better.

_Because the kid had to._ Dean figured it was a question of trust. He figured Sam wouldn't talk as long as he didn't trust him.

A week later they had sex again. Dean stopped by at Nancy 'n Fred's on a regular basis, though not every day anymore.

There was something evolving between the both of them. Dean didn't know what. He thought about it now and then. He thought about what kind of relationship this was. If it even was _any kind of ship_ anyway.

He didn't know. Sam still wasn't talking to him. Nothing besides asking him what he needed to know to satisfy Dean's needs.

But he felt, that things were _shifting_. They were changing. Sam's looks had become more fond than curious and weirded out.

Sometimes Sam would have bruises. But not as bad, as this one time. Sam wouldn't talk about it. He wouldn't tell why he'd let people do this to him. And Dean didn't pry.

At some point during their _appointments_ Dean gave a prepaid-phone to Sam, telling him to call if something was up. If he needed help. No matter what kind of help. He'd be there.

_Though, Sam never called._

_SPN_

Dean went on a hunt.

Someone called Bobby, asking for help. Bobby wanted backup at this one, so Dean went with him.

They've been on the road for two weeks. It had taken longer than Dean had expected. And he got hurt.

A little concussion here, a dislocated shoulder there.

Some scratches on his leg.

Not so much fun getting thrown around by a werewolf.

He had been thinking about Sam on their hunting trip. He had been thinking about the fact, that he had to share the man with others. _He didn't like that._

Dean Winchester couldn't possibly understand why Sam would let people do this to him. Treating him like some sort of product, thrown away after using it.

He just didn't understand. There sure as hell would be a job out there for Sam. A real job where he didn't have to sell himself.

_There had to be other options._

But Sam kept to himself.

Hell, Dean didn't even know where the kid was living. What he was doing when he didn't work. The only open connection to him was the phone.

_But Sam didn't call._

Obviously he didn't feel the need to. So Dean had decided he wouldn't call either.

Not that there was a possibility, that Dean Winchester was jealous at all. He wasn't. Jelousy _didn't belong in his vocabulary._

But then again, this strange feeling in his guts told him otherwise.

_SPN_

Dean didn't come for him in two weeks. He hadn't even told him he'd leave.

He knew Dean had paid his room for the past two and the upcoming three weeks. Sam's been there. Asking for him. Tried to get a hold on him.

So if the room was paid, he had to come back, _right_? People like Dean Winchester always came back.

On the other hand, he could've called. Sam could call Dean either. But he wouldn't. He had said, if he'd need something, if he'd be in trouble he could call.

But actually he wasn't. _Not really._

So there was no need to call, _right_?

_SPN_

_Another week went by._

Dean stayed at Bobby's. Recovering, healing up. After all he couldn't explain to Sam where he had those wounds from. Why he looked like chewed onto and spit out.

He had rent the room at the motel for another three weeks. So if Sam - contrary to his expectations – would come and look for him, he'd hopefully know that he'd return.

_Faith(or rather the writer of this story) though … was playing it's own game and speeding things up ..._

TBC


	8. CHAPTER 7

_ The Road So Far:  _

_Another week went by._

Dean stayed at Bobby's. Recovering, healing up. After all he couldn't explain to Sam where he had those wounds from. Why he looked like chewed onto and spit out.

He had rent the room at the motel for another three weeks. So if Sam - contrary to his expectations – would come and look for him, he'd hopefully know that he'd return.

_Faith(or rather the writer of this story) though … was playing it's own game and speeding things up ..._

_ **CHAPTER 7** _

It was fucking _cold_ , and he was fucking _hurting_. Blood dripped from his split lip.

Paving a way through the woods with bare feet wasn't fun at all.

He's had a bad feeling about this. He knew something had been off with the both of them. Right from the beginning. They wanted to have him for the night. Offered him 500 straight for his services. They even paid him before they reached their destination.

His stomach had churned and revolted, when he realized it wouldn't be a warm cosy motel-room they'd spend the night in. Not like the last time.

The both of them had taken him into an apartment – though roughing him up pretty much, it had been at least a warm place to suffer.

Instead it had been an old abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Well, not exactly nowhere. They've been driving south for about half an hour.

Inside they had set up everything already. _Obviously_.

Back then he thought it couldn't get that bad. No wipes this time around, no knifes. Well yeah, there's been bondage-stuff and some utilities used in BDSM-Circles. But nothing that would look dangerous enough to him to feel threatened in any way.

_He was a fucking mess._ Not knowing where he came from and where he was going.

He felt dizzy, not capable of catching a clear thought at all. He tried to _remember_. Sam _tried_ _to_ remember.

He _tried_ to recall where they went with him in the car. Tried to trace back his path from where he went and where he actually should be.

Usually he used to know. He _always_ knew. He pretty fast learned to memorize places and streets. He always found his way back. _Always._

But tonight? He knew tonight he wouldn't. Not on his own. Not in this condition.

Sam knew – this time – it was _bad_. _Like fucking bad._

His head was too fuzzy. Thoughts flew by, and he couldn't possibly catch a single one of them that could help him to find his way back – at least to the road.

And he was so fucking _cold_. He already thought that, he thought. It sounded like a never-ending echo somewhere at the very back of his mind.

„Phone“, Sam rasped. His neck hurt like a bitch. Swallowing hurt. Some time soon, sun should come out, giving him a better few on his surroundings.

Again „Phone“, he was whispering to himself. He had Dean's phone. _He knew._ He could remember – better said – FEEL that he had to have it in his jeans. Sam couldn't clearly _remember_ , but there was a glimpse of a memory, that he should've taken it with him after waking up in agony.

  
Bad thing he didn't think about getting back into his boots and grabbing the fucking parka. Or at least one of the sheets they had laid out on the floor.

Sam halted. „Phone“, he mumbled again, trying not to drift off and forget about it.

Stiff fingers searched his pockets.

_There it was._

And it had _no_ _signal._

Sam blew out a huff in disbelieve.

He needed to find the road. Most likely he'd have signal there.

_SPN_

Something was poking at him. Probing around the outer lines of his mind. Hunter-senses kicking in.

Dean was agitated since evening. He tried to sleep but couldn't, so he was wandering around in Bobby's house.

Touching stuff, _breaking_ stuff … like this one figure of some roman goddess. He hoped Bobby wouldn't need this one some time in the future.

He was also carrying his phone around. With that itching in his fingertips he checked on it close to every five minutes.

It was tearing at his nerves. Tearing at his mind, as if something wanted to tell get him to do _something_. He just couldn't put his finger on it. Not yet anyway.

Bobby's house was save. Salt-lines, banishing symbols. Everything was intact.

Dean sat in the library huffing out a breath, staring out of the window. The funny thing was, that Sam didn't come to his mind at all. Not even for a split second this past hours.

 _Until_ _now._

And that was, when Bobby appeared in the doorway and joined Dean, sipping hot coffee with scotch. Well, scotch with hot coffee in this case.

There was total silence between the both of them. For a very long time, until Bobby cleared his throat.

He sat up in his recliner. „What's bothering you, son?“ He sounded even, relaxed. „And don't say nothing's bothering you, 'cause I damn fucking know when something's on 'ya mind, son.“, not sounding that even anymore, a threatening uneasiness had been swinging within his words.

Dean grinned. „I don't know.“

Bobby was the second father he never had. The guy he could crash at. The one who'd be there, when his father couldn't. He spent there a lot of time when he was young, or when John thought he couldn't take his ten year old with him on a hunt because it was too dangerous for a kid.

They shared looks. „I _really_ don't know.“

„You're hanging out here. For longer than I expected. - You on the run from somethin'? Hidin'? Stallin'?“ Bobby knew something was up. That man had a sense for stuff like that. He ever had.

„Ya, stalling maybe.“ Dean hadn't anything else to offer. „Can't go back to the motel, just now you know ...“

„Someone _special_ ain't supposed to see ya like this?“, oh, the old man had a point.

„Kinda like that.“ Dean couldn't hide a embarrassed smile, which kept lingering on his face.

Bobby huffed out a triumphant lough, telling Dean _„I fuckin' knew!“_ He took another sip. „'Bout time boy.“

The hunter chuckled. „You think?“

„Sure of it. - Gonna get a look at your lady some time?“ _No_ , Bobby Singer wasn't nosy.

Dean's cheeks flushed. He never flushed. _A Winchester never flushed._

Bobby's eyes narrowed. _So no lady._ „Well, as long as it's no animal I'm cool with it.“, he mumbled into his beard.

„We don't need to do this now, do we?“ Dean looked up, breaking eye-contact. „I don't even know what this is. - Haven't seen nor talked to him since we took off.“

„I can tell you're into whoever we're talking about here. May as well tell the person.“ Bobby shrugged. He knew there was more about it. They were hunters. In a hunter's life. Even if Dean didn't go on hunts on a regular basis anymore, it would stay difficult.

 _Back in Black_ tuned in. Loud and sharp. Thanks to the broken loudspeakers of the phone it sounded more like the screech of a banshee than an actual song.

Torn out of his thoughts, Dean fumbled for the phone.

He couldn't believe what his display showed him.

_Sam was calling._

At four in the morning.

No good time for a talk.

No good time for anything than sleeping.

The hunter's eyes narrowed, his mind tingled.

It took him a moment to pick up.

He straightened up in the sofa leaning forward while holding the phone to his ear.

Dean heard wheezing breaths. A sniff.

„Dean?`“, it sure as hell was _Sam_ _calling_. His voice broke.

„Hey, what's up kiddo?“, he tried to sound relaxed. _All easy peasy._

A pause, a wheezing breath. „I'm sorry to call ...I“, he rambled into the phone. „It's ...“

Dean's eyes narrowed a bit more, his forehead lay into deep wrinkles, leaning forward a little bit more as if he could hear Sam better by doing so.

There was a choked sob at Sam's end. „Pick me up? Please?“ Another sob.

Dean got up from the couch. „How bad?“, he asked, he sounded calm. _Dangerously calm._

„It's not … I just can't … I can't _find my way back._ “ A mixture of stammered words and sobs. He was _crying_.

 _Sam_. Was. Fucking. _Crying_.

„How bad Sam?“ Well, someone was pretty pissed off.

Pissed enough and obviously filled up with anger all the way, so that even Bobby Singer instantly realized that the call wasn't about some sweet nightly chitchat. Singer rose from the recliner, put his cup aside and frowned at Dean, who was staring at nothing.

„Okay, where are you?“ Dean sniffed, a thousand things running through his mind at once.

„There's a warehouse. About thirty minutes from Nancy 'n Fred's, headed south. I ...“ Sam's voice broke. It took a few wheezing breaths and a moment to try to remember before he continued. „I think I'm somewhere along the road, heading north. - I just … _I can't_.“

Dean was already on his way out of the front door, Bobby close behind him, gathering all the weapons on his way out.

Dean slid into his boots without lacing them up, nearly stumbling. “Hang on.”

„I'll take you on loudspeaker. You stay where you are, we're gonna get'cha.“ Dean yanked the door of his baby open. „You keep talking, Sammy, _you got me_?“

Bobby wasn't quite sure what was going down right now. But he knew things could get ugly fast. And obviously Dean got one of this _fast-ugly-going_ calls. So he didn't had to be asked to come along.

The old man got into the passenger's seat. “Where are we goin'?”

“The old shoe-factory. We have to pick someone up.”

„So, what're we dealin with, son?“, the old man asked, preparing himself mentally for the fight of his life by the looks of it. „Weres? _Ghost_?“

They shared a fast look. Dean telling Bobby, that it wasn't something like that. „No monsters, Bobby. He doesn't _know_.“, Dean whispered, hoping that Bobby would understand and Sam wouldn't.

„How bad is it?.“, Dean said into the phone, then handing it over to his old friend.

Some wheezing. „Actually … _bad_.“

It had to be bad. He didn't know Sam. But he knew enough that the kid wouldn't call if it wasn't for his life depending on it.

There was no talking. No talking at all. Only the rumble of baby's engine and what sounds came out of Dean's phone.

„You can walk?“ Dean knew the kid had to _keep going_. Hat to _move._ It would keep his blood _flow_. Had to keep himself somehow warm until they'd get to him.

„Yeah.“ _No_ , he actually wasn't in the mood to walk.

„You gotta stay on the road.“ The hunter set his car in motion with squeaking tires. His voice raised, wanting to make sure Sam'd understand him. „ _Stay. On. The. Road.“_

_SPN_

Sam wasn't in the mood to move. Not just a little bit.

Actually he was leaning propped up against a huge tree, hand and phone in his lap.

He felt blood flow slowly but steady from several cuts.

For a brief moment he closed his eyes, trying to refocus. He needed to get back on his feet. _On the road._

SO he did what he had to do. He gritted his teeth and tried not to move his head to much on his way back to his feet.

Didn't work at all, but somehow he managed standing up, without doubling over. A stinging sensation crawled all over his feet as if thousands of small teeth were ripping junks of flesh out of him.

Sam stayed still for a moment, trying to regain control, trying not to double over as nausea got a hold on him. Slowly but surely he made his way towards the icy concrete. The cold felt oddly soothing against his burning wounds.

_SPN_

Sam couldn't tell how many time passed since he had called Dean. It felt like eternity.

Like a robot he kept moving. One step at a time, all so slowly.

Blood dripped from the tip of his middle-finger on the concrete, surely leaving a nice trail behind him.

He stopped for a moment, regaining his breath. He still held the phone in his hand, holding Dean in the line. On Loudspeaker. Listening to soft chords of _Highway to Hell_ in the background.

„I _think_ ...“, Sam swallowed thickly. Tasting the metallic components of blood on his tongue. He wasn't sure if Dean could hear him. „I _think_ I need to lay down.“

„Don't you dare!“, Dean's voice burst out.

He sounded distant. Too far away – still. „We're past the first driveway. - We're _close_. You hear me? You pass out now, I'm gonna ...“ Well, what was he going to do? Hit his ass? Making him do the laundry? _WHAT_ was he going to do to Sam?

„Gonna do what?“ It wasn't like Sam was into anything sexual at the moment. It was more a phrase he used automatically. when he was on the job.

„Gonna get you in trouble.“ the hunter shook his head, a cocky grin flashed over his lips. His eyes not grinning at all.

„I' _AM_ in trouble.“ Sam smirked.

So the kid was still up for joking, right? Well, Dean could work with that, as long as he kept talking, receiving signs of life from Sam.

_They had to be close. So close._

„Figured.“ Dean cleared his throat. „You still walkin'?“

„ _On Sunshine._ “ His breath evaporated in the crispy December-air. „You know … Guess I might quit my job.“

Dean huffed out a breath.

„I can't do this anymore.“ Sam wasn't sure what he was talking about. If it was really about his job, or if he meant this walk. _The whole life-thing._ „I can't. - _I don't belong_ ...“ He broke off, a brutal cough erupting from the depths of his chest, catapulting trickles of blood out of his mouth.

Dean wasn't quite sure what to say. They had never talked that much, and sure as hell Sam never talked about anything but what it was Dean wanted for the night.

„I' … I've been _doin_ ' this for too long.“ Again, Sam wasn't sure what he was telling him – or telling himself by saying those words. Somehow something had shattered deep inside his soul. The barrier, which kept his emotions and feelings at bay.

This barrier had gotten thinner and thinner since he first had met Dean. Ready to go down anytime soon. And just now, now that he was here. Bleeding, hurting, bruised, it had come crashing down on him. Splintered like a thin layer of ice covering a lake's surface, sending him face down into the cold water.

„It's been too long.“, Sam mumbled to himself, putting another foot in front of the other. „It's to heavy. So many things to carry around. - To go to all those dark places.“ He shivered. „It's so _cold_ there.“

And that was, when bright headlights caught his attention between the silhouettes of trees.

Sam stopped, panting. Squinting at two bright beams coming closer fast.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually working on another story about the boys.   
> I think it's going to be a bit (pretty much) dark ...   
> originally it was meant to be a oneshot for an anonymous request 6 years ago.   
> So it seems, I can't do oneshots ... it's going to be a multichapter.   
> I call it "When Autumn Falls" ... why? I can't tell ... It's pretty much a lame title for a hunting-story and wincest XD


	9. CHAPTER 8

_ The Road So Far: _

And that was, when bright headlights caught his attention between the silhouettes of trees.

Sam stopped, panting. Squinting at two bright beams coming closer fast.

_ **CHAPTER 8** _

Sam was clinging to the phone as if it was his lifeline. Somehow it literally was. Blood smeared across the bright display.

Blood-soaked clothes clung to his aching skin. The only warmth he felt was from his burning, bleeding wounds.

The tortured man felt consciousness draining from him.

But he fraught. He _knew_ he needed to stay awake for this. Sam had to stay until Dean would get to him. _He needed to._

_SPN_

„Guess we found him.“, Bobby leaned forward, making out a tall figure in the distance.

The closer they came, the more they could make out in the darkness.

When they only were a few feet away from the swaying man, Dean jumped into the breaks, letting the tires screech. The car hadn't entirely stopped yet, when he applied the handbrake.

The phone slit from Sam's hand, shattering when it hit frozen ground. He felt his knees buckle. _Relief_ soaked through him. Making him feel all warm and cosy. Sam swayed, tried to catch himself from doubling face forward onto the ground.

That was about the moment he felt darkness claw its way into his mind.

„ _Sam_?!“ Dean Winchester _ran_. Then he was right up in Sam's personal space just in time to catch him, before he could hit the hard concrete. He cradled the man in his arms and went down with him slowly.

Foggy hazel-eyes stared up at him. _„You came“_

„Told you I'd come.“ A mixture of worry and anger flooded the hunter, mirroring in his roughed up voice. He brushed a dark-brown- sticky bang of hair out of Sam's face.

The younger man's skin felt clammy, cold sweat on damp skin. „Hold on. - We're getting you somewhere warm. Patch you up.“

A figure appeared behind Dean, carrying something.

Dean grabbed the pile of fabric Bobby handed him.

„No hospitals.“, Sam mumbled. „ _No hospitals_.“ That one thing, that might was one of the most important right now. „ _Promise_ me.“, he breathed.

The hunter and Bobby shared a weird look. Usually it was for hunters to try and not cross paths with authorities.

  
„I can't promise what I may can't keep, Sam.“, Dean's voice was even, soothing. He threw a blanket around Sam's shoulders, tugging him in.

_SPN_

It took them longer than Dean had expected to get the giant into the backseat and back to Bobby's.

Dean's motel-room wasn't set up for someone hurt this bad.

Bobby would set up the basement and might as well would call Ellen.

Ellen once had been a paramedic, before she joined the hunter's life. If Bobby wouldn't be able to get this sorted out, surely Ellen would.

The basement wasn't only specially warded. The room could be used as whatever you wanted or rather _needed_.

There was a bad-ass-arsenal of weapons down there. All tiled floor and walls. Medical devices of all kind and meds, may only a surgeon knew.

Robert Singer was always prepared. Just in case.

_SPN_

They dashed through the front door of Bobby's house in a hurry. Dean cradling a nearly passed out Sam in his arms, carrying him straight to the couch in the living-room

„I'll go get the basement ready.“, Bobby's voice was heard from the hall, echoing down the corridor .

Dean laid the man down gently.

Sam's head lolled to the side. His breaths raged but even shallow somehow.

Now, in the bright light, Sam looked like he got chewed on pretty well. Blood all over him. Clammy, ashen skin. Bruised cheekbone, split lip, even more bruises the further Dean's look traveled down the limp body.

Something tore at him, warned him not to get Sam unpacked and his flannel opened up. He wouldn't like what he'd get to see.

_He felt sick._ So _sick_. He felt like throwing up. At the same time he also felt like breaking down Bobby's entire furniture.

„First things first.“, the hunter muttered to himself, his own shaking hands covered in Sam's blood. It had already dried up a bit, itching on his skin.

„ _Sam_. You with me?“ He tried to asset what they had on the plate here, by taking in the man's body.

„Yeah.“, it wasn't more than a breath.

„That's good. You're doing good.“, Dean praised, trying to keep Sam with him and at the same time get the needed things done. „Keep your eyes on me.“

_Sam obeyed._

He really tried to follow Dean's fast movements. Tried to keep an eye on him as required. His vision was blurry and foggy. And by now, he only wanted to sleep. Fall into a deep slumber and never wake up again.

It didn't even hurt anymore that bad. Actually, all the pain started to fade into nothingness.

„It doesn't hurt anymore“, his voice was low and almost inaudible. He sounded weak, ready to pass out anytime soon now. „Not that bad anymore.“

Dean got the scissors. „That's fine.“ He knew it wasn't. But then again, did it even matter right now? Sam wasn't a talker, he wasn't a talker. „You should've called me sooner, baby boy.“, his voice was a soft rumble.

„Couldn't.“ It took Sam some time to process the other man's words. „Was _MIA_.“

„Funny.“ Dean started with the sleeves, cutting them up to his neck carefully. „At least you're talking. Telling me things. - Wouldn't talk to me as much before.“

Most of the bleeding seemed to come from a wound near Sam's chest. Dean couldn't tell, since his clothes weren't ripped. Looked like Sam himself or someone else had clothed him after he's been out.

„You gonna tell me who this was?“, Dean's voice carried away softly. „The guy from earlier?“ He figured there couldn't possibly be that many sick bastards around in Sioux Falls.

„ _Guys_.“ Sam swallowed, his lips dry. „Yeah.“

„The ones that beat the crap out of you earlier? Wiped you?“ Dean had to be sure of it. Because he was going to find them. And he was going to do things to them no human could ever possibly imagine.

The hunter shook his head, took in a deep breath. He exhaled, put the scissors aside and started to peel off the front of Sam's shirt carefully.

The young man hisses at the burning sensation. „ _Yes_.“

_Blood_. _So much blood._

Dean spotted delicate – still bleeding – cuts on Sam's stomach, too much to count. A deeper one he couldn't oversee right beside the man's bellybutton.

Some of them looked like they've been induced by a blunt blade. Other ones by a sharp one.

There was an eagerly bleeding stab-wound to the left side of his chest – right where he had memorized Sam's scar from back then.

He laid a clean towel over Sam's torso, and a folded blanket, before he'd move down to his jeans to unbutton them. Suddenly there was a trembling hand on his. Weary eyes meeting his gaze, pleading not to.

„It's okay.“ Dean's voice was so soft, comforting. He himself didn't even know he was capable of sounding like this. „I'm gonna get you out of those.“

Sam closed his eyes for brief moment, steeling himself. „There's a bad cut. Right Thigh.“

Dean got the hint. „I'll be careful.“

Bolting from the basement, something shattered. A gruff course was heard.

Sam twitched.

„I didn't clean up.“, Sam exhaled deeply, trembling. There were a couple of things he needed to tell Dean.

„We're gonna clean you up.“ the hunter went on, cutting open the jeans legs.

„No … at the warehouse.“ He swallowed thickly. „I took one down.“

What explained why Sam wouldn't want to have a hospital involved. They'd ask questions, inform the authorities. And he _took one down._

On the other hand, Sam was a civilian. This had been self-defense

Sam's pupils widened, gazing at the ceiling while Dean continued his handy-work „That's a good thing, Sammy. No one's screwing with you.“ Dean Winchester had felt, that the kid wasn't all lollipop and candy-canes He had figured, that if it'd come to the point, Sam would know how to fight back.

„I know _what_ you are,. Dean Winchester“, Sam mumbled. _Yes he knew._. Not that he knew anything about the devil's gate and stuff. But he was pretty sure that the guy he had been spending time with, was a hunter.

„So, you tell me what I am? SAM.“, He didn't really listen. He didn't understand what Sam was obviously trying to tell him. That he knew. That he wasn't just some civilian.

There was no answer. Dean continued cutting the jeans open. Gladly they weren't skinny-jeans. That could've been difficult.

When he didn't get an answer, he looked up.

„I know _WHAT_ you are.“, Sam mumbled meaningfully.. He kept on staring at the ceiling. His eyes blank, as if he was talking to someone else, right there in front of him.

The way Sam said it made Dean look up, stopping mid-cut

He followed Sam's gaze at the ceiling.

A cold shower drove down his spine.

Dean once had this reaper on his hands in a hospital. He couldn't remember that good at all. It has all been blurry back then. And as he came back from the breach of death, he wouldn't remember everything that had happened. But he could remember the reaper. Floating above a dying man.

„WHAT _who_ is?“, Dean cocked an eyebrow, his look pinned now to Sam's face.

„ _You_.“, the younger man breathed.

Dean swallowed, tore his gaze away from the man and continued cutting. They needed to get this done. No time to waste.

Bobby bolted into the room. „Everything's set up down there. Ellen's gonna be here in about sixty minutes.” He carried two bags with saline in his hands. “Gonna warm them up.”

Bobby Singer didn't run often. But when he did, he was like a fucking weasel on speed.

_SPN_

They brought Sam downstairs. Dean draping him on the preheated examination table and covered him in towels and blankets.

„Who is he?“ Sure, the old man didn't want to pry, but they had a civilian in his house now, who didn't want them to get authorities involved. „Gonna get me somethin' on this one, ya know?“ Besides that, if Sam would stay – he at least figured so – Bobby had to clean up, get things hidden …

„He's a friend.“ He stood hunched over the Sam, feeling his pulse. „A dear friend.“ His voice was almost _loving_. “Don't think is going to move soon anywhere. Don't worry.”

„Got the suture kit?“, Dean asked, reaching out for Bobby who was standing offside, taking in the scene in front of him.

They hooked him on a slightly warmed up saline-drip. The first one, Bobby let drip fast. The second one a bit slower.

They had to keep his system going until Ellen arrived.

They've been in bad situations too. And hell, it was at stake more than just once. So they knew a few tricks about how to stay alive. Though – if it was for internal bleedings and other ugly shit they had to see a real doc too.

Or they called out for Ellen.

Both men got to work.

Dean started to clean Sam's face with a soft sponge, getting all the blood off, while Bobby started to stitch him up. They had to work fast and precise. This one was a two-men-job.

Sam was drifting in and out of it. His finger's twitching every now and then. They didn't dare to give him anything else but saline for the moment. They had to wait for Ellen. _She'd know._

  
  


TBC


	10. CHAPTER 9

_ The Road So Far: _

The both men got to work.

Dean started to clean Sam's face with a soft sponge, getting all the blood off, while Bobby started to stitch him up. They had to work fast and precise. This one was a two-men-job.

Sam was drifting in and out of it. His finger's twitching every now and then. They didn't dare to give him anything else but saline for the moment. They had to wait for Ellen. _She'd know._

_ **CHAPTER 9** _

Ellen came.

She took care of the wound to Sam's chest and thigh. A lingering look on the boy's screwed face.

She had told them, he'd need a ct-scan.

Dean told her, that they wouldn't bring him to the ER. So she propped and touched Sam's stomach and ribs and declared that it didn't look like there were internal bleedings.

She told them to be observant, when it came to the kid's breathing.

Gave Dean precise instructions on how to dose and administer the meds. Reminding him of getting Sam warmed up slowly otherwise he could fall into a severe state of shock.

_Long story short._

There were quite some injuries to add to the list beside the obvious.

Cracked ribs on both sides.

Bruises.

Two removed back-teeth, three loose. He may as well would have to visit a dentist anytime soon.

A concussion.

Sam's left eye was swollen shut, but it didn't seem to be anything broken.

Dislocated shoulder.

Lacerated feet.

A broken metacarpal bone and thump. Jarred skin on the same hand. Maybe from trying to get out of a pair of handcuffs. Ellen had casted the hand and arm.

Ellen couldn't stay. She would have loved to though, since she hadn't seen Dean and Bobby since their showdown at the devil's gate.

She promised to drop by in two days with meds and other supplies they would might need, checking on their patient.

_SPN_

Dean kept an eye on Sam that night. He'd stay in the basement in some rotten, squeaking chair. A bottle of whiskey and a cup of coffee beside him. Sam's blood-stained purse in his back-pocket

Sam was out could, since Ellen had drugged him with just enough morphine, so he wouldn't suffer from respiratory depression, but wouldn't be under that much pain either.

So Dean had time to think. About that evening, the night. The way he had felt before Sam's call and the eagerly rising anger within him after spotting the hurt man on the road.

Now that he was all by himself, some of the tension floated away. He reckoned what Sam's been saying.

And just then it got to him. That maybe Sam knew, that Dean was a hunter. That the kid didn't actually talk to some random hallucination floating above him.

Might as well he was talking to Dean, telling him that he _knew_ …

Dean shot a curious look at Sam's face, the only part of his body that had to be seen under a pile of blankets. His mind wandered off to the purse in his pocket, not belonging to him.

He inched closer up to the bed, fumbling with the blankets to get to hold Sam's hand. It felt cool although they were about to warm him up. Dean squeezed it all so tenderly, rubbing his thump over the kid's backside of the hand.

„So … you know _what_ I am, huh?“ Dean thought out loud, chewing his lower lip unconsciously He knew Sam wouldn't hear him at all. „You're all business and shit about that, right? You don't generally care about who's paying you. As long as it's for the money you hop in to their cars and drive off to god knows where. Ending up … _Ending up like THIS_.“ His eyebrows narrowed. „Why would you do that? - Never heard of gambling? Credit card fraud? Something like this. - Cause that's how we deal with this. We're taking what we need to live. Not more, not less either. We're not selling ourselves out.“ It nagged at the back of his mind and he damn well had to get it out of his system like yesterday. _„This is going to end._ \- You won't do this thing anymore. You deserve better. - Everyone deserves better than this.“ Dean exhaled sharply and took a deep breath. „And I'm going to hunt those sons of bitches down. They're going to pay for this.“

His subconsciousness helped him to put pieces of Sam's puzzle together.

_He told Dean that he knew what he was._

He's had a broken hand, and the scratches along it. Like he had broken it all by himself to get out of a pair of handcuffs. Though Sam hadn't been carrying them anymore when they found him.

He had told him, that he _took one of the guys out_. So … Sure Sam wasn't weak. But he had been injured, dehydrated. And the men high likely have been armored at least with knifes.

So if he wasn't trained to do so, he couldn't have possibly even hurt one of them properly to get away. He would have been too slow. Too weak.

_Right_?

Maybe Sam also has had a hunter's life? Maybe he's been here on job? Or did he meet hunters in his past who filled him in?

The more Dean thought about it, the more theories he spun in his mind; the more questions popped up.

He remembered the purse again, reaching for it.

Usually he wouldn't go through someone else's personal things (actually he would, but never admit it). But he figured it was about time to get to know Sam some better.

So he went through the purse.

Five-hundred dollars and a driver's license.   
No pictures, no cards. _Nothing_.

Well, it wasn't nothing nothing. It was _something_.

It was a driver's license with Sam's picture on it. „ _Angus Young_ “, Dean read out loud. „ _Wyoming_.“

Dean huffed out a breath. „Nice _alias_ there, kiddo.“

_SPN_

Later that day – the sun was already setting – they moved Sam upstairs, settling him down in Dean's bed, since it was the only room not stacked with boxes and supernatural stuff.

Sam continued to tune in and out of consciousness His breaths shallow and weak.

Dean wouldn't leave his side, except for visiting the bathroom, getting coffee, or following Ellen's instructions on how to care of their patient.

At some point, Dean called Rufus.

If Sam had killed one of those bastards, they had to get rid of the body. Dispose the body and all the other things properly so that no one would ever get a hold onto what had happened in the warehouse.

It was easier and faster to do this together, since there was the possibility that the other guy would come back and find something that would lead him to the salvage – or even worse. _To Sam_.

_SPN_

They took Rufus car to the warehouse that night. More room to stash the patrol-cans they might needed.

At the entrance they were greeted by a bloody smear on the door-handle and triplets of blood on the ground.

Dean and Rufus didn't have to look for it. It all seemed untouched, what had been set up in the big hall of the abandoned building.

Maybe the dead man's partner was still waiting for his sidekick to come back...

Sheets laid out in the middle of the floor, Tables draped around a wooden cross. Metal-cuffs installed along the horizontal beam, and leather straps at the very top of the vertical one.

It smelled like iron, pain and death.

Dean strode by the tables, having a brief look at the utilities on top of them. - This was quite an arsenal there.

BDSM-Stuff, syringes, small med-bottles, knives, pliers and a whole lot of other nasty, dirty tools to make someone scream in agony.

_Nope_. Dean wasn't going _there_. He didn't even want to imagine what had went down at this place last night.

Not far from the cross, they found a body. Face down. Frozen to the ground in a pool of blood.

Rufus cocked an eyebrow at Dean. He's been filled in to what they were doing here, though no details had been told.

They went through the man's belongings, looking out for anything that could lead them to his sidekick. There were pictures of the dead man with another guy, to their feet a dead deer. The other picture showed a family-photo. The dead man, his wife and two kids. Pictures which you would carry with you because it was about someone dear to you.

A driver's license, credit cards, some cash.

“Well, look at you, _Bert Birchowic_ Harrisburg South Dakota.” Dean memorized the address. He stashed the pictures, money and driver's license in his pockets.

The emptied purse landed on the corpse beneath him with a thud.

„Well, that's gonna be real fun.“, the hunter huffed. . He and Rufus shared a knowing look. „Let's burn this place to the ground.“

And that's just what they did.

No one would ever know.

_SPN_

Sam was dead to the world. Tugged into a soft bed, comforter and blankets spread out on top of him to keep him all warm and comfortable.

Bobby checked in on their patient a couple of times, changing the empty saline-drip to a new one. Administering antibiotics and other meds to it. He changed Sam's lying-position, so the kids back wouldn't be all that sore and achy when he'd wake up.

Shallow even breaths, well audible in the silent room.

An hours-drive away, an old abandoned warehouse went up in blazing flames.

_SPN_

When Dean returned to the salvage, warm sunlight flooded the driveway and gave Baby a memorizing gleam, drawing attention away from the old rusty bowl parked right behind the Impala.

Inside the house, Bobby went into the kitchen with a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers.

Ellen looked troubled, though she wore her most warm smile.

„You sure about that?“ Bobby took a seat across from his old friend and filled up the tumblers. „Never heard about Jody ever having a kid.“ Deep lines of thoughtfulness altered Bobby's face into something more dark.

„No one would know“ But she _knew_.

„Could be anyone else though. - It's been fifteen years now since Jody vanished.“ He seemed to rummage around in his memories, trying to figure out when he could possibly had missed out on it. „No one ever knew what happened. There have been no traceable leads.“

Ellen sighed, looking down at the filled tumbler for a moment. „Long story short, she had to tell someone at some point. And that one was me back then. Like I said, I only saw the boy once when he's been a teen. But I'll be damned if this isn't him. This is Samuel. Beting my ass.“

Bobby bit his lower lip. Thinking. „For sure, Angus Young ain't his real name.“, sharing his thoughts with Ellen. „Might told Dean his birth-name though. Never became or continued hunting. How could she hide him from all of this?”

Because Robert Singer knew everything. Everyone. There was no way in heaven, hell or on earth, to hide information like this from him.

“She never wanted the boy to be a part in this. - And if she wasn't forced to tell me, she wouldn't had. Trust me.”, her smoky voice vibrated.

“Anyway. - I think he's doing good so far. He's looking better. You should try and get some food into him. Broth or something soft.” She tipped down her Whiskey. “When he's awake … he should move. Get back on his feet anytime soon. Sit him up, get him to take deep breaths.”

Bobby filled it back up, giving her another shot. “If this is Jody's son. He's family.”

Ellen nodded. Because she knew. Everyone knew in their line of business:

_Family doesn't end with blood. And blood doesn't mean family._

TBC


	11. CHAPTER 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite the end, but that's were I'm gonna build up sequeals upon in the future ...

_ The Road So Far:  _

_Family doesn't end with blood. And blood doesn't mean family._

_ **CHAPTER 10** _

Ellen filled Dean in on who she believed the kid was.

Bobby got two more tumblers.

John had once mentioned a huntress named Jody Mills – a former cop before she joined the hunt. But he had never mentioned a kid. She's been more of a lonely wolf. Never uniting with another hunter for a job.

That might was what got her killed in the end.

_SPN_

Sam was awake, when Dean entered the room with some chickenbrooth in a rather big bowl.

Sam was lying on his back, eyes half open and misty from the medication he was on.

“Hey.”, he sounded weak, his voice rough and torn and calm.

Dean gave him a glamorous smile when their looks met over the distance. “You're awake.”

Sam's face was ashen. Bruises standing out purple and dark. His eye still swollen shut. , the other one bloodshot and watery.

“Gotcha something to eat.” He put the bowl on the nightstand beside Sam, then gathered pillows from an armchair from the other side of the room.

“Gonna get some food into you.” Dean's voice was so soft, caring. He swallowed down the growing anger about Sam's condition. This wasn't something to talk about right now.

“You up for sitting, kiddo?”

Sam threw him his most remarkable bitch-face “No kid, dude.”

“

Dean swallowed a chuckle. Lines of sorrow digging deep in his face. “Yeah well. - You're younger than me. So yeah. I'm gonna call you _kiddo_.” He couldn't help himself but tease – just a little. “Sammy.” He added, giving him a cocky grin. If Sam like _kiddo_ , he'd probably love _Sammy_ even more.

Dean didn't believe the kid's face could get any bitchier.

“I'm no chubby seven year old either.”, Sam rasped, his voice fading fast.

“You'll get used to it.”, Dean stated, stepping up beside the bed, throwing two pillows on the blanket. “And up we go.” He didn't asked for permission

Dean pulled the blankets back, reached under Sam's armpits and lifted him slightly from the mattress to drag him up towards the headboard.

Sam couldn't suppress a wince. It hurt. Like a damn freaking bitch.

Dean held him with one arm, so he could stash the pillows in between Sam's back and the headboard. When he did so, he felt Sam's head coming to a rest against his shoulder, warm breath tickling the delicate hair of his neck.

Dean exhaled softly. If it wasn't for the circumstances, he would have liked that. _He would've liked that a lot._ So he kept on holding him like this for a couple of seconds longer than it was absolutely necessary, before he eased him into the pillows.

It felt like Sam was breathing him in, taking a deep wheezing breath, holding it. Not wanting to let go. Wanting to get as much from Dean into his system as possible. Until it'd hurt too much.

When Dean pulled back and sat down at the edge of the bed, Sam's eyes followed him weary. There were no signs of fear, nor angst.

Like this was a normal situation on a normal day with normal people in a normal place.

_But it was not._

He took the bowl with luke warm soup, stirring the spoon in it.

Sam cocked his good eyebrow, observing the hunter. Watching him stirring the soup.

“You're so not gonna spoon-feed me.”, his fading voice coming out weak.

Dean looked up. _He wasn't?_

Sam's expression was dead serious.

Dean gazed at the casted arm, the other one hooked on an IV. _Oh hell yes. He so was going to spoon-feed Sam, he just didn't know it yet._

“Fine.” It wasn't on him, to tell Sam what he was capable of doing. He'd have to see for himself.

Sam glanced at the bowl of soup. He was freaking hungry. _He always was._

“There we go.” Dean let go of the spoon and held the bowl in Sam's lap.

Sam hesitated for a moment as it seemed, thinking things over.

Dean waited. _Patiently_.

Sam's trembling hand reached out for the spoon, a shaky breath falling from his lips. Carefully, his fingers wrapped around the spoon, metal clanking against the ceramic as the trembling went on.

He scooped up some soup. Lost most of it on the way to his mouth, but managed to sip in that little that was left.

He did it again.

Dean watching him carefully.

Sam's trembling increased. Obviously starting to loose control over the spoon.

It clattered into the bowl, as it slid from Sam's fingers. Small drops of chicken-soup spurting onto the blanked.

Sam let himself sink into the pillows, his hand coming down beside of him.

Dean wouldn't say a word. He just took the spoon, and would spoon-feed Sam.

Sam let him.

Dean gave the man some time to recover after they were done with the soup. They just sat there in silence, rays of sun dancing in Dean's emerald-green eyes.

Thanks.” Sam tore his look away from the hunter. “Thanks for coming.” _He meant it._

“You shouldn't talk. Ain't good for your vocal cords.” Dean didn't want to go all red over his face. But he did. “Besides … You got the guy good. Found his body. Burnt the place down.”

Dean cleared his throat staring at the empty bowl. He paused, gathering words, sorting them out in his mind.

Then he looked over at Sam, his hand covering the man's swollen side of the face, forcing him gently to look him in the eyes. “I don't care _why_ you think you deserve this. _But you'll quit_.” He was calm and soft, feeling the heat from Sam's bruised cheek radiating into his cool hand. “Either that, or you'll have to leave the county and never come back. I'm not going to let you do this to you. - Ever again. _Not under my watch.”_ Dean didn't know how he would know, that Sam wasn't going to leave.

“I won't.” For the first time since they met, it seemed as if Sam would let Dean in. Would be just Sam, not a hooker telling him what he wanted to hear. It even felt as if Sam was inviting him, leaving the door to his very soul ajar for him.

_ This is not the End ….  _

_ **Author's note:** _

_No, it's not the end._

_This is practically where I'll go from with sequels and one-shots I've already posted the Intro to it._

_This is, what upcoming Stories in the Bruised Bloody Broken Universe are going to be based on._

_Let's say, this one's the pilot. _


End file.
